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by Barglord on Jun 06, 2017 at 04:46 PM
Aragorn had the look of true fear on his face. The scruffy Dunadan said, “If Skorgrim is here, and he is practically Ivar’s hound, that must mean he is allied with Angmar. If so, he must be here to aid the Blackwold brigands, who have recently allied with the Iron Crown. Lenglin, one of my rangers, recently intercepted a Blackwold emissary and found a note highlighting plans at Ost Baranor, a ruin southeast of Bree. Furthermore, the note spoke of a ritual involving Amdir, a corrupted Dunadan who was taken hostage by Cargul during the sack of Archet, a village northeast of Bree. Sadly, Amdir must be slain, or he might never know peace. We go to Ost Baranor tonight, and hopefully my predictions relating to Skorgrim are proven wrong.” Barglord retired to his room to rest before that night’s journey.

Nightfall came, and Strider, Lenglin, Torthann, and Barglord left for Ost Baranor. The night was calm and peaceful, with a slight breeze in the air and snow dusting the groun td. There were not any signs of a calamity taking place, but not all things are as they seem. There was a sudden cracking of twigs echoing through the Chetwood. The four men drew their swords, and were startled by a figure jumping at them.

Barglord bumped the figure with his staff. “Ouch!” exclaimed a familiar voice. Brandalviel was the person he hit. Barglord turned red with embarrassment and, rather profusely, apologized. “For Elbereth’s sake, why is it always the sire that is an oaf? Is this how you treat a maiden? I want to help you.” Barglord was still too embarrassed to speak. Strider remarked, “You are the sister of Barglord, so we trust you. Do you bear information that could prove useful to this mission?” Brandalviel replied, “Yes, I do. I overheard you and Barglord discussing the mission, so I thought I would go ahead and scout Ost Baranor to keep an eye out for Skorgrim. I did not tell you all because I knew Barglord would object. Even though I am the older sibling, he is still quite overprotective.” Barglord turned from a shade of sunset red to a shade of tomato red. “During my scouting, I noticed a group of dwarves walk into the ruin. Four looked rather sketchy, while one was clad in armor.” Strider added, “That must be Skorgrim. Did you see anything else that could be considered threatening?” Brandalviel was clearly nervous.

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by Barglord on Jun 03, 2017 at 07:19 PM
Barglord and Brandalviel had left the Barrow Downs, and were now on the main road to Bree. The young sire was looking for a bed, while the young maiden was seeking a few pints of ale to keep calm. The walk to Bree was rather uneventful, save the sounds of leaves and twigs being crushed under the paws of bears who made their home in the wood. The gatekeeper let the pair into Bree, and the two continued to walk to the Prancing Pony Inn. Barglord exchanged loose coin for a night’s stay in the dusty, sketchy building. Barglord was about to retire for the night until he remembered, “Strider!” Barglord sprinted from his room to the bar, where Barliman Butterbur, the tenth or so generation innkeeper of the Pony, gave the sire the location of Strider’s room. “Be wary of Strider. He is one of those Ranger folk. They are a foul and unsavoury lot, I tell you,” Butterbur whispered into Barglord’s long, pointy ear.

Barglord carefully opened the door to Strider’s room, and the Dunadan pulled a dagger out of his cloak as soon as he heard a sound. Strider pointed the dagger to the sire’s throat until he looked at his face. He saw the face of an Elf, not resembling that of Guldurir Elhromane’s, the Noldor who had fallen to corruption and became stronger than the Witch-King of Angmar himself. Strider removed the knife and asked, rather rudely, “What do you want?” Barglord said, “My name is Barglord Andurthil. I was sent here by Langlas and Celairant, both of whom are of the Dunedain.” Strider paused. “Explain you errand, and do it with haste,” he said. Barglord said, “Twelve years ago, Skorgrim Dourhand was raised from the dead by means of Ivar the Blood Hand corrupting the dwarf’s corpse with a foul spirit. A few weeks ago, Langlas, Avorthal of Lindon, Mathi Stouthand of the Blue Mountains, and I laid siege on Rath Teraig and fought Skorgrim’s army with the intent of defeating Skorgrim. The Dourhand slipped away amidst the chaos, and might be in Bree-Land.” Strider had the look of true fear on his face.
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by calwhitebark on Apr 18, 2017 at 05:21 PM
Footsteps in the Dark

They moved swiftly and silently as possible, trying not to attract attention to themselves as they advanced. The turn of the seasons was not entirely in their favor as the pair of men stepped carefully through the crisp leaves and dried branches which had littered the ground beneath the towering trees growing up around the ruins. One false move or too loud of an arrival could jeopardize their part of the plan. The autumn season had, however, also brought with it cold evenings and fine layers of frost forcing the band of untrustworthy men and women encamped within the ruins to start small campfires. The glow of the fires gave away positions as their pacing shadows moved along the interior walls. As the silent men advanced in the darkness, they spotted a gruff looking brigand who stood guarding an entrance to the encampment.

He leaned casually against the wall of the ruins starring off into the Midgewater Marshes, seeming rather bored by his position as lookout. The pair decided to test his skills as a guard and split up, going left and right, walking widely out and then back towards each other. This time one of them purposely stepped on a branch and the brigand immediately turned in the direction of the sound. When the light of a torch he’d reached for revealed a Ranger standing in front of him, the man screamed and swung the torch at his foe. Without so much as a flinch, the Ranger reached out, wrenching the torch from the man’s hand and striking him with it. Instead of falling, the guard cried out in pain from the blow to the side of his head and staggered back.

As the brigand turned to run and retrieve his fellows, another figure stepped from the shadows and struck him a second time, not with a torch but a large wooden staff showing a subtle glow of its own. The man spun from the force of the blow and was stopped abruptly as a blade pierced through his abdomen and exited his back. He fell to the ground with a look of surprise never having left his face. “Well done, Callathrad. Let us hope his cries did not alert the others to our presence”, Torthann said as he scanned the area for anyone who may have heard and come running to the aid of the dead brigand at his feet. The young man he’d brought with him looked exhausted and Torthann hoped that this would not make their mission more difficult. As far as Callathrad was concerned, this was only the latest in a series of unexpected turns his life had suddenly taken and he was convinced it was starting to take its toll on his mind. He stood with his freshly craved staff planted on the ground, doing his best to steady his breathing and himself. He gripped the smooth and polished wood in both hands and leaned his head against it; thinking over all that had brought him to this point…
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by Barglord on Apr 13, 2017 at 04:02 PM
"Elbereth, save me!" Cried Brandalviel as Sambrog raised his sword. The sword was ancient, yet as sharp as a newly forged blade. This was the end for Barglord and Brandalviel, the only hopes for the lands to the south of the majestic, snowy Blue Mountains. Surely there was no way for them to escape. Sambrog was singing his sword in the direction of Barglord's neck, and the blade was so close he could see light reflections in the metal. "Why would there be reflections of light in the metal?" Thought Barglord as he heard the barrow walls cave in. "Tom!" Shouted Sambrog as he saw the strange, short, frolicking man entering the barrow. "Those who are dead should not be walking, let alone talking! Be gone to your grave, foul one!" Tom shouted, rather gleefully. The Wight-Lord died for the final time. "This is the end, Elves," said Tom. "You two are no longer regular people. From now on, the fate of Eriador depends on you two, so watch yourselves!" Brandalviel was very distraught, but Barglord was calm, as if he had accepted this fate long ago. "I see," mumbled Barglord as he walked out of the barrow.
Barglord climbed up to the top of the highest mound of Othrongroth. A few minutes later, Brandalviel climbed up, looking like she had something to say. "Barglord,!" she said. "How do you stay so calm in the face of adversity? First the Wight-Lord that was about to cut off your head and now this? I don't see how that is possible." The young sire pondered this for a while, and said, "I was fine with death. If I went to the Undying Lands, I would be able to see my lover, Ellethdel, and my brother and best friend, Pernorgud, again. I was sure I would die as soon as I left Ered Luin after the assault on Rath Teraig. I feared no death, until now. As for my reaction to what Tom said, I had been told that before, but now it's confirmed. Lady Galadriel explained that in a dream, but I thought that dream was just that, a dream. I was wrong. If I fall, Middle Earth falls with me."
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by Barglord on Dec 25, 2016 at 04:25 PM
``Clink, clink, clink``
Barglord Andurthil of Lindon heard that noise as he woke from his slumber every morning. The smell of the sea and the rays of light entered his bedroom through the window. His mind was as foggy as a Mithlond winter season. He heard the clink, clink, clink of the binding of ships to docks with chains and rope. The breeze made the pink, blossoming trees of Mithlond spring slightly sway. The faint grunts of soldiers sparring in the training field could be heard. These were the familiar sounds and sights for the young elf, who was merely seven hundred years of age at the time. Water was already ready in the house baths for Barglord, and he mixed the water with petals and a mixture of herbs from his mother's garden. He stepped into the smooth, stone tub and relaxed his muscles. The aroma of the mixture in the tub was soothing, as his mind became clearer and his eyes became less tired. A little while later, Barglord stepped out of the bathtub, got dressed, and went to the table to the kitchen to fix the first meal of his day. As he went to his pantry, he gathered flour, dried fish once caught from the Sea, and some herbs that Brethothil, his mother, planted in the garden. He seasoned the fish with the herbs and made dough, and put the food in the stone oven. When his food was ready, he put some honey gathered in the Vales of Anduin on his bread. He ate slowly, and he cleaned his plate when he was finished. After a short rest, the young sire went to the gardens to meditate. Barglord was training to be a lore-master, and he always meditated before his daily study. His meditation that day was exceptionally well, and good meditation always meant good study for the training lore-master. This was one of his last meditations in Mithlond, and he would be traveling to the Refuge of Edhelion in the next week to further his study. An hour later, Barglord went to the house library to study. His set of Dwarf-make runes, smithed at Thorin's Hall and Gondamon by Rune-Keepers Nollag Arducroi and Farrlin the Fair, were neatly lain on his desk from yesterday's study. He finally managed to translate the last of what the runes said, and figured out that the incantation was meant to strike lightning on a certain place. Pernorgud, the eldest brother of the Andurthil family, would have loved using those runes, but he had disappeared two hundred years ago. All of the Andurthil family was still mourning, but Barglord thought that there was more than met the eye concerning the disappearance.


***


Two Hundred Years Earlier
``Run, young sire, run!``
The sire panted and wheezed as he ran from the docks of Mithlond. It seemed as if everything around him was in flames. His older siblings, Pernorgud and Brandalviel, protected the sire as he made his escape from the Havens. Brethothil was in the house of healing while Mendhillon, Barglord's father, was leading a charge of Sindar to battle the invading threat from Ered Luin. Something was chasing the three young Elves, and Pernorgud screamed with enough force to break glass. The enemy was Skorgrim Dourhand, a leader of brigand Dwarves bent on stealing gold and jewels, which were plentiful in the calm city of Mithlond. Pernorgud shielded his two younger siblings in an attempt to keep them from harm. It seemed that even at such a young age, Pernorgud did not care for his own well being over that of his family's. Pernorgud screamed, "What do you want with us, you foul, corrupt monster?" Skorgrim replied, "You...." The foul being seized the young elf. The young Sindar yelled, "Damn you, Skorgrim! You will pay for this!" That was the last either of the young elves saw of their brilliant, kind brother, but hey heard him scream, "Run, young sire, run! Run, Brandalviel, run!"

***


The Day of Barglord's Departure
"Wake up, Barglord," said Mendhillon to the young, sleepy Sindar on the final day in Mithlond. "This is your final day in Mithlond, and we must prepare the carriage and horses after breakfast." Barglord took his bath, and had his usual breakfast of bread with honey and fish with herbs. Mendhillon and Barglord loaded the carriage with provisions, blankets, and clothing. The horses were well fed and groomed and ready for the journey. That evening, the two Sindar planned to go to the outskirts of the Havens, at the wall right outside the desolate, lonely Rath Teraig. After nearly twelve hours traveling through Lindon, the pair arrived at the wall with built in barracks. Both Mendhillon and Barglord had their own rooms and baths. Barglord slept peacefully until dawn. After a short bath and breakfast, it was time to depart for Gondamon in Ered Luin, a Dwarven city where the two Sindar were welcome, due to the Dwarves' friendship with Pernorgud. The pair went through the Rath Teraig and reached Gondamon in the early evening. They finished their dinner of aurochs-meat and boar-meat by late evening and retreated to their quarters by midnight.
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by Barglord on Apr 08, 2016 at 04:10 PM
After nine days on foot, he found the Prancing Pony Inn in Bree, and collapsed as he walked in due to his exhaustion. He was pale, and Barliman and a few other patrons had to carry him to a bed. Barliman asked, "Anything else you need?" The sick, tired Ellon whispered, "Is Strider still here?" Barliman nodded, and went to fetch him. The landlord made everyone.leave the area, and watched the common room from the doorway so no sneaky, filthy brigands would eavesdrop. Barglord told Strider of Skorgrim's arrival in the Bree-land. After Barglord could walk, he, Strider, Torthann, and Lenglin went to Ost Baranor in the Chetwood. Near the ruins, they saw a person watching them. Barglord ran closer, and found his sister, Brandalviel. Brandalviel had followed him all the way from Duillond. Know that she would be a useful person to have in their fellowship. After killing many brigands, they stumbled upon Skorgrim, who was about to murder a high-ranking Blackwold. Skorgrim escaped, and the fellowship found some Nazgul, including the fallen Ranger, Amdir. Eógar the Angmarim and Amdir were slain by the Ranger, but the Nazgul had already escaped. Barglord found himself running an errand in Newbury, and he heard cries of help from a Hobbit. Crebain were attacking the Hobbit, so Barglord killed the evil birds, except for two that escaped. He rode back to Bree to warn Strider, and was instructed to go to Tom Bombadil's house in the Old Forest. He was then instructed to slay Andraste, an Angmarim. After Barglord was finished with that, he had to go to the Great Barrow, which was home to many ancient evils. He followed The Witch King of Angmar, Skorgrim Dourhand, and Ivar the Blood-Hand until he confronted Sambrog, a Wight-Lord. Brandalviel unexpectedly entered the barrow from behind, but they were not powerful enough to defeat him. They surrendered, and Sambrog raised his sword to kill them.
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by Gwenllyan on Apr 08, 2016 at 01:49 PM
Gwenallyn lay wrapped in her bedroll, staring up at the clouds above Brockridge. Even though she was deeply bruised and dead tired, she could not fall asleep for the images rushing through her mind. She had spent the day like every other day recently - travelling through the war-torn ridings of West Rohan, battling invading orcs, protecting displaced, terrified families, and delivering hard truths of war to local thanes.

She never intended to be a paladin. In her youth in Linden, she expected to be a scholar. With her master, Talagan Silvertongue, she studied the linguistic alignment between Westron and Hobbitish as trade developed between men and hobbits. Ah, there was a topic that could have taken a lifetime to develop! Why, just the early period when the Fallohides sent a delegation to King Argeleb to negotiate the treaty granting the Shire to the hobbits…

But that would never happen now. The dwarves had overrun Edelion, killing her tutor, her mother, and many others, and she fled into the woods.

Suddenly adrift, she became hunter to survive, and prospered as a sell-sword. She floated aimlessly through the lands of Middle Earth tending the needs of others, but never finding a place where she belonged until she met Annalys in Bree. Annalys was not an Elf, but rather an aging woman from Bree. Well, aging by human standards: Gwen herself had lived through far more summers than the woman would ever see. Anna was a pacifist; she hated the strife and dislocation that had come into her world. All she really wanted to do was tend her garden, play her music, and teach youngsters to use the gifts of both.

That was how Gwen met her. She had drifted into Bree to rest up, and saw Annalys under a tree near the south gate, showing a youngling how to prepare an athelas poultice. The two became friends over ale and meat pies. Anna, like Gwen, had no family and nothing to tie her to any place. Seeing the deep pain in Gwenallyn’s soul, Anna suggested that they continue to share the events of their lives by mail once Gwenallyn moved on. Anna had been a tonic for Gwen. Eventually, Gwen found two cousins, Eiddwynn and Blodeuwydd, and wrote eagerly to Anna about finally having a family. “But”, she wrote, “You’ve been my family for a long time.” And so it was that the four of them formed a clan.

Since then the orcs had gotten bigger and more numerous, and many of the humans were not much better. Their bickering and petty power plays made her wonder whether the region was worth saving. Maybe it was time to go west into the Grey Havens.

Gwen looked up at the moon as it rose over the hills. The next full moon would be in a week, and she and her sisters agreed to celebrate the summer solstice at their home in Bree. She was looking forward to seeing the others, especially Alva, the dwarf they had adopted the previous autumn. But mostly, she was just tired. She pulled her blanket around her shoulders. The Havens beckoned as she drifted into sleep. She would talk to her family.
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by Farrolin on Mar 03, 2016 at 09:35 PM
As they wandered through the city, Noddoc and Minotin noticed many things, but first and foremost was the fact that all of the people looked battle worn and rugged. They also noticed that there seemed to be people of all races and types here. They saw a Hobbit selling swords, and an Elf who was the Town Crier. As they neared the tall cylindrical tower in the center of the city, they saw a few boys sparring in a corner. They used wooden swords of course, but the fighting was fierce nonetheless. As they watched, one of the boys tripped the other, and held a sword over his neck. “I am the winner!”, he declared. They walked on, and they came to the entrance of the tower.

They opened the door, and were surprised to find that inside, everything was circular. The boxes in the corner were curved, the staircase was curved, and the bricks were curved. They heard muttering upstairs, and decided to go up. They came to a door, and distinctly heard from the other side a snide, sinister male voice say “well I expected as much from a ‘wizard’ such as yourself.” He put particular emphasis on the word ‘wizard’. “Not” he continued, “ do I count a failure such as yourself as a wizard.” They heard the swooshing of a cloak and the floorboards creak, and they barely had time to hide behind a crate before a tall man strode quickly down the stairs and out of sight. The door was still open, so Noddoc and Minotin walked timidly inside. “Oh what do you want” said a tired, nasally voice. Minotin and Noddoc walked into sight of the wizard. “Please sir, we have messages to carry,” Noddoc replied timidly. “Well then, carry them!” Radagast said loudly. “Well, erm, Candaith sends his regards.” “Yes”, said Minotin getting bolder, “and also Tom Bombadil.” Radagast thought on this one for a little bit, and replied “I am sorry I was so sharp with you, this has been a trying week, and the visitor who was just here, maybe you saw him?” At this, Minotin and Noddoc stared determinedly at their shoes, not at all eager to tell him what they had eavesdropped. “Well, he was not a very nice person, quite the opposite in fact. I am very glad to hear that Candaith and Tom were well. I knew both of them personally.” Having broken through the barrier of hostilities, Minotin and Noddoc began to tell Radagast about their adventures. Minotin was very surprised to find out that Noddoc was born near Bree as well. They got onto a long, winding discussion about their hometowns before Radagast brought them back to the subject. When they were finished talking, Radagast said “as recompense for my hostility, I would like to pay for your room at the local inn, assuming of course, that you are staying the night.” They both thanked him profusely, after assuring him that they were. “I would also like to see both of you in the morning, Minotin, because I would like to train you in the ways of a Loremaster, and Noddoc, because I would like to hear from Bilbo.” They both left feeling happy, but also tired. When they got to their rooms at the hotel, they did not even bother to take off their shoes, but both crashed into bed.

The next morning, Minotin got up early and went to wake up Noddoc. Together, they set of across town to talk to the wizard. When they arrived, Radagast greeted them warmly, as if to make up for his harsh greeting yesterday. “Well, I want to talk to Minotin first, so maybe Noddoc could explore Ost Gurath?” Noddoc accepted, and he left, leaving Minotin and Radagast alone in the silent tower. “So, you said you wanted to train me?” said Minotin breaking the silence. “Indeed I did,” replied Radagast, “but the kind of training I want you to do is going to require a better staff on your part, I was merely communicating mentally with another lore master who makes staves, and he said he will be here in a few minutes. I want to use these few minutes to ask you a question, and then to talk to you about matters that I want brought to your attention. Now, as for the question, what spells do you know so far?” “Well,” answered Minotin, “I know the Wizards sign, and Burning Embers…” Yes, but do you have a book that you use?” At this, Minotin set one of his bags on the floor and pulled out an old, dog-eared book. “Is this what you are talking about?” He showed Radagast the book. Upon seeing the book, Radagasts face suddenly became grave. “These runes are ones that I have not seen in a long time, but I would recognize them anywhere, these are runes from the terrifying age of the Witch Queen, Wife of the Witch King. They say ‘Orhgshiz Mannhgh Gelkaz’ meaning ‘The Dark Wizards Book’. I hope on all things dear that you have not used these spells.” “No sir” replied Minotin, “I couldn't read them sir.” “Then we have averted a catastrophe.” “What would have happened if I had used these spells?” asked Minotin becoming curious. “Let us not talk about these things.”

Minotin and Radagast talked until about three o’clock in the afternoon, and then Noddoc and Radagast talked well into the night. The next day, Minotin felt a strong urge to pull out the book. He did so, and when he looked at the cover, he felt an overwhelming desire to look inside. He opened the book, but as soon as he tried to read the book, he felt a searing pain in his head, and saw a fleeting image of what looked like a giant floating burning yellow eye. The he saw nothing.
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by Tarthalinor on Mar 03, 2016 at 07:40 PM
(again, copy-paste of the chapter from the book document I am actually making. This one in an actual diary format!)
Brother and Betrayer
Tarthalinor
From the diary of Tarthalinor Elhromane
14th day of Gwaeron, 3016 TA
I received a strange letter today from my brother. Not Thalduron, as I had hoped, but from Guldurir. I was at first hopeful, thinking he had come to his senses. But the letter said only to meet him near Bree-Town. I was skeptical, but hope forced my hand, and I saddled Eledron and rode from the gates of Falathlorn south through the Shire, keeping to the cover of trees. I reached the border of Bree-land. Riding to Bree itself, I disguised myself and took a room in the Prancing Pony, hiding my true nature, and set out into the town to make a patrol, in case my brother had sent one of his agents to find me. I saw 3 men, Southerners by their faces, that bore his mark on their armor, but they did not approach me, and I wished to remain hidden until I knew where Guldurir was.
Upon returning to my room, I found a sealed letter on the bedside table, along with my ink, open, and a broken quill which had been deliberately broken in half. The wax was black, and was freshly dried. I opened the letter, and saw Guldurir’s thin, running hand in old Quenya Tengwar.
Dear Brother,
I see you have become rather predictable. You always scout around a city you are staying in, even before unpacking. I took the liberty of unpacking your things for you, and I am much obliged for the use of your ink, paper, and quill.
It has come to my attention that you approached the Loth-I-Lonnath recently. Did you think you could join a herth of Lindon? After having pledged your loyalty to the Lady Galadriel? That is most strange to me…
Know that the Herth cannot help you now. No one can, even were you to ask your ‘Illuvatar’ to aid you and he somehow answered, you could not stop me. This is the only way, and must be taken with the swiftest of action. If we delay Sauron will inevitably rise and overtake even the farthest reaches of the West.
I bid you farewell, then. Do not come looking for me.
You will most regret it if you do.
Guldurir Elhromane

I threw the letter into the fire in disgust.

15th Day of Gwaeron, 3016 TA
I cannot stand him! He will not see sense! How cannot he not see that this power will kill him?
I found Guldurir this day.
I tracked him down into the Weather Hills, to a ruined tower that once stood there, part of the Watch that stretched westward from Weathertop to guard against the enemy. With Amon Sùl’s great shadow rising against late afternoon sky, I approached. I was well into the circle before I saw what my brother kept in his little home: objects of arcane purpose, scrolls of papers, chunks of rock and crystal, among other things for living.
“Brother.” I heard the voice before I saw him, from behind me. I spun, anticipating an attack, but he simply walked calmly into the ruin.
“Guldurir.” I replied, sheathing my dagger.
“You really have become predictable, haven’t you?”
“Have I?”
“I tell you not to look for me; you follow me wherever my trail leads.”
I raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.
“Your time among the Edain has made you soft. Can you not even recognize a trap anymore?”
I took a deep breath. “I am here to talk.”
“Then do so. I am not stopping you.”
I sat down and began to talk. This power would destroy him, I said. Could he not see that it was the power of the enemy, not of our people? Wasn’t there some other way?
“Just come with me, back to Lindon. We can fix this, trust in me.”
He stood, his eyes blazing, the iris flashing green
“Yes, of course,” he spat “Trust ‘Big Brother’ to show you the way. You can’t think for yourself, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
He kicked his chair away and strode away in exasperation to the center of the room.
“Guldurir! Stop, you don’t have to do this!”
“Why? You cannot control me anymore, Tarthalinor; you of all people should know that now!”
I stood and walked over to him.
“There is no need to do this. Come with me. We can fight him together.”
“Together?”
There was a flash of movement, and I found myself flying across the room, crashing into a pile of rubble, the breath knocked out of me. Guldurir walked slowly to stand over me, drawing a dagger form his belt. The weapon glinted like polished obsidian.
“Not a chance of that, brother dear.”
I felt a hot pain in my hand, and found my left hand pinned to the ground with the dagger. The heat was swiftly replaced with a mind-numbing cold, such as I had never felt before in my life.
“I told you that you would be sorry if you followed me.”
Guldurir stood in the door, a black shape against a red sky.
“Good-bye brother dear. I hope our paths never cross again.”
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by Farrolin on Mar 03, 2016 at 06:14 PM
Let's try this again.

This is the story if a man who went from "zero to hero" as they say these days. He began as you would not expect a hero to begin. He was born in a small town named Archet, just outside the large and well known city of Bree. He spent his days being made fun of by his rich and well-to-do neighbors. He was called 'peasant', and even 'hobbit' because of his laid back and farmer like personality. He tried to not let it get to him, but sometimes he found it hard to ignore. One day, as some idiot was teasing him, he exploded. "I'm going to show you all up one day, you just watch! I'm gonna talk to Elrond, and you are all going to be stuck here." He ran away, never to visit again.

His next few adventures were mostly near Bree, because he could not bring himself to completely run away. He toured Bree, trying to find a job, but could not seem to be hooked on any type of crafting, or scholarly action. Instead, he earned money by helping people in remote places on the map, whether it was some poor farmer who broke his wagon, or a ranger outpost in the barrow downs. As he got stronger, he even braved the Old Forest. He spoke several times to Old Tom Bombadil. One day, Tom Bombadil gave him a task that changed everything. He was sent on a big mission to talk to a wizard on the opposite side of the lone lands, in a far off city titled Ost Gurath. He knew he would have to fill his travel bags, and get a trusty horse, so he earned a lot of money over the next few days. He bought a beautiful bay horse, and a lot of dry rations. He said his farewells to his new friends in Bree, and set off.

Along the way, he met many troubles. He met brigands in Chetwood, fought with bears at the yellow tree, and even with goblins in some southern ruins. He stopped at a broken down hotel with peeling words that read The Forsaken Inn. He was surprised to find that there was a cheery fire, and people dancing inside. The guy in charge of the place, Anlaf the Forlorn, asked him to talk to a Ranger named Candaith in Weathertop. As it was on the way to Ost Gurath, Minotin accepted. This was a grave mistake. What Anlaf the Forlorn neglected to mention was that he had to travel through a goblin camp. When he saw the goblins, he very nearly gave up hope. He tried to sneak through the camp, hiding behind barrels, but a goblin spied him. The goblin quickly raised the alarm, and Minotin started to run, attracting more goblins. He soon had forty of fifty goblins chasing him. He saw the campfire up ahead, and soon saw Candaith. He and Candaith slew all but three of the goblins, and these few were wise enough to run.

He told Candaith his business, and Candaith responded "I am glad to hear that Anlaf is well. He can be quite forgetful, but he was a friendly man." "Yeah, forgetful" muttered Minotin, "I think I saw that side of him." The exchanged pleasantries, but Minotin could tell Candaith was getting ready to ask a favor of him. He told Candaith that he was going to Ost Gurath. When Candaith heard this news, he was ecstatic. He said “ I have been meaning to talk to Frederick the Elder for some time now, but it is my duty as a Ranger to defend Weathertop. Would you be so kind as to send him a message from me, assuring hem that I am alive and well?” Minotin assured him that he would indeed pass along this message. He began to leave, but before taking off for good, he looted a staff from one of the Goblins bodies. He summoned his horse, and was about to take off, when he spied another person. At first, he thought it was another goblin, and was about to slay it, but he figured out that it was another person, Noddoc, who also had to go to Ost Gurath. When Minotin asked Noddoc if he could join his company for a little while, Noddoc accepted. As there were not very many travelers in these parts, Minotin was very glad for the company.

Minotin and Noddoc wandered eastward through the Lone Lands, slaying trolls, spiders, and White Hand Guards alike. One day, as they were wandering, Minotin spied a ruin in the distance. As they got closer, they saw it was full of a merry light. When they were only a few hundred yards away, they were stopped by the stable master, who took their horses, and bid them a good day. As they walked up the huge set of stone stairs, they saw a few muscular guards at the top. Unlike the guards in bree, these guards did not have hounds to assist them. What they did have, however, was a foul expression. “You mind yourself now, they warned him, or you'll be out of here before you can say ‘Radagast the Brown’.”
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by Barglord on Feb 23, 2016 at 12:27 AM
The Story of Barglord Andurthil
Barglord is an Elf, born in Mithlond (Grey Havens), Lindon. He was born into a prominent family, due to his father, Arandaer, being a head Warden and his mother, Brethothil, being a Champion. His father and mother fought in the front lines of battles if the need ever arised, which rarely ever did. Barglord was not an only child. The young sire had three siblings: Pernorgud, Brandalviel, and Tharneth. His young life was mostly spent playing on the docks, frolicking on the seashore with his siblings, and fishing. When the time came to get a job, he decided to become a scholar, as he pursued knowledge. Seeking out better scholar opprotunities, he moved his sister and parents to the Elven Refuge of Edhelion, which divided the borders of Northern Ered Luin and Southern Ered Luin.
Barglord, Brandalviel, and their parents took a boat to Celondim, a peaceful Elven town. They hired a family of wookworkers to build a large cart to carry passengers and luggage. Pulled by the horses, they journeyed north and west of Celondim to Gondamon, a city in the Low-lands. Barglord was sleeping in a room, when was awoken by a whisper in the next room. The whispering dwarf (or at least that is what it sounded like) said to himself, "The plan is complete. The assault of the Elf refuge will happen soon. The relics will belong to Skorgrim." There were two Elf havens in Ered Luin: Celondim and Edhelion. Barglord and his master, Talagan Silvertongue, met the next morning in Gondamon, and let him know about the assault. Talagan said, "This is indeed terrible, and we must let the masters of both havens know about the Dourhands' plans. Brandalviel and her mother, Brethothil, and the Lord of Gondamon were sent to Celondim to aid in the possible attack. Talagan, Barglord, and his father, Arandaer, were sent to Edhelion. Barglord and his allies met Elrond Halfelven and instructed him to set up baracades and call forth the strongest Ellon and Elleth watchers, healers, and warleaders. The inhabitants of both Edhelion and Celondim were prepared, but Celondim was not attacked. They expected a group of Dourhands, but were beset on all sides. Skorgrim and a mountain troll made their ways in. Skorgrim and a few other Dourhands attempted to get inside the library, which contained immortality relics. In the end, they failed, but not before Elrond had slain the troll and Talagan giving his life to bury the relics and kill Skorgrim Dourhand.
Over six hundred years after the assault and recently after the resurrection of Skorgrim, Barglord went to Duillond to live in tranquil. He decided to cross the Sea, and made his way to Celondim. The sire had heard that the Ellon prince, Avorthal, was visiting Celondim, and went there a few days earlier than Avorthal to make sure he did not have to look after the prince. When about to take the boat to cross the Sea, a grey haired, grey eyed Elleth named Eilian stopped Barglord, asking for his assistance. Not yet knowing this, this request would change the sire's fate drastically.
Eilian said, "Were you the one that solved the mystery of the blight of Ered Luin?" Barglord lied (trying to keep his bravery a secret), "I apologize, but I am not Barglord Andurthil. I am Parandar of Lorien." The sire was not a good liar. The Elleth said, "If you were not Barglord, how did you know that Barglord was his name? He is not well-known outside of Lindon and Imladris." The Ellon gave up and spat, "Fine! You figured me out! Does Cardavor want me to babysit Bratorthal?" Bratorthal was Barglord's name for Avorthal. Eilian said, "Well, Cardavor sent me to tell you to come to him." He went to Cardavor and asked, "Mae govannen. What do you want?" Cardavor said, "Avorthal was planning to visit Celondm, but his delay is rather strange. His friend, Athal the Dwarf is at Nen Hilith with a two Ellons and an Elleth. Could you look for him there?" Barglord reluctantly went to Nen Hilith, and Athal said that he had not seen Avorthal, but he would he meditating there when Athal arrived. The Ellon looked atound Nen Hilith, and found an Elven crafted satchel next to a slain goblin. He thought that Avorthal was killed, and returned to Cardavor to lot him know. Cardavor instructed him to find Pampaurash and slay him in retalation. Barglord found many goblins at Limael's Vineyard, and went inside a large Elven building at the vineyard. He found Pampaurash at the top and was nearly killed before he threw the goblin out the window into the rocky Rath Teraig below, giving the spiders a meal. The goblin muttered that the Dourhands have Avorthal.
Cardavor then told Barglord to go to Duillond to tell Dorungúr Whitethorn to ready his soldiers for war against the dwarves of the Vale of Thraín. Dorungúr refused until the matter was investigated more thoroughly. Barglord went to Gondamon to warn Gailthin, an emissary. After that, a series of events led to the rescue of Avorthal and an assault on Rath Teraig. After the assault was over, Barglord had to go from Ered Luin to Bree on foot to warn the Dunadan, Strider, of Skorgrim's plans in Bree-land.
(What I have so far :p)
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by Tarthalinor on Feb 21, 2016 at 02:06 PM
Seeking the Truth
Tarthalinor
After healing my wounds, I journeyed off into Breeland once again. I found the land not much changed, though I was surprised to see that the crops in the hobbit-fields were now fully grown and golden.
Walking through Chetwood, pondering this and many other things besides, I remembered a strange poem or rhyme I had heard in my youth, long ago:
Ash nazg thrakatuluk
Ash nazg gimpatul
Ash nazg durbatuluk
Agh bizum-ishi krimpatul

What it meant, I did not know, but the words brought to mind a memory of fire and molten metal, smoke and shadow. And then I remembered a name: Angmar. This I knew, remembered. A land far to the north of Bree, a dark region in half of the old kingdom of Arnor, the ancient kingdom of the Edain, the Dunedain known as the Faithful. I remembered well the exodus from of Arnor, when the Faithful fled the region now known as Angmar. Fleeing from…. From…..
“The Witch-King.”
I spoke the name aloud as I remembered it. The name of my mortal enemy, he who wears the ring that I had crafted, corrupted by power and the wicked magics of Sauron the Betrayer.
But the verse remained strange to my ears.
As I spoke the Nazgul’s name, there was a deathly stillness that rose form the north, followed by a bone-chilling wind which smelled of sulfur and coal-smoke and hot steel. I stopped as the squirrels and chipmunks rushed to their trees, and birds ceased their song. And then a great shadow covered the sun and flew over my head, making an unearthly noise like an eagle’s screech, and yet not like; a dark cry that seemed to strike fear into every living thing that heard it.
I looked up to see what at first appeared to be a wyrm like the great dragons of old, yet this creature had wings more like a bird, with a long tail and grey scaly skin. As I laid eyes upon it I felt an unnatural chill wash over me. I had never seen anything like this, but I had heard of such things. It was a fell-beast, it must be.
Gathering my cloak around me, I ducked into cover, far off as the thing was. When I felt it was safe, I called my horse, and rode as fast as Eledron oculd carry me towards Bree, barely managing to pull on a hood before entering the city gates. Taking the road north, I cut across the Fountain Square, beneath the Scholar’s Staircase, and turned north again through the farmlands. I soon came to a place where the trees had been cut; much farther north than the men at the building site would lumber. And not much farther north there were mounds of charred and crumbling wood, as if the trees had been dragged away from their stumps and simply burned. I dismounted and continued on foot, sending Eledron back to stable in Bree.
Pushing through a clump of underbrush, I came upon a small ruin in which a band of orcs had made camp. I fell back quietly, circling to the west side of their circle. There I had seen a table, of sorts, which likely contained some information of their movements. The tracks were mixed, of orc, and goblin, and boots like those of the Edain. Likely one of the corrupt northmen sent to keep the orcs on task.
There. A large orc stood by the table examining something. The others weren’t looking. I drew my bow, and nocked 2 arrows. The first found his neck, the second his heart, and I was out in the open, dragging the orc into the bushes. I took this opportunity to search his belongings while in cover. Once pouch held nothing but a large assortment of rings: some worthless baubles, some of a little more value, and one or two with some small magic.
Nothing else of interest here. Time to move on. I stashed the orc under a tree and threw a few branches over him, and re-entered the circle of broken columns and crumbling walls. I walked over to the table, and opened a small box that sat upon it. Inside was a small cloth satchel. Before I could open it, a cry came from behind me.
“Oy! It’s one of them Tarks! ‘Ere lad, ‘ere!”
The largest orc I had ever seen had spotted me. But not entirely an orc, his face retained a certain amount of humanity.
I pocketed the satchel and drew my bow once more, nocking an arrow and firing in a single motion. The orc-man fell, a barbed arrow in his shoulder. He scrambled to his feet, attempting to tear it away even as I drew a second and fire at one of the goblins that had leapt up from the bonfire.
The goblin fell dead and the half-orc was toppled with another arrow, to his opposite shoulder. I scrambled up the wall beside me with the aid of the ramshackle table, and took advantage of my momentary respite to apply a flame oil to arrows, which would light when I loosed them. A crossbow bolt whistled past me, and I leapt across to a pillar that had remained mostly intact.
Firing three arrows in rapid succession, I felled 3 more orcs in gouts of smoke and flame. This alerted even the watchers at the edges of the camp. I put away my bow and drew my swords, leaping down upon my enemies. In a matter of minutes it was done, and only the half-orc remained. I approached, sheathing one of my swords, the other flaming blue from the fight.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”
I stared coolly into the creatures eyes, unflinching, daring him to move.
“P-p-please…. I ain’t done nothin’ but f-follow orders…. the Master said-“
I pounced, whipping a rope around the hand that had drawn the dagger, kicking the poor weapon aside into the fire, where it began to bubble and hiss, releasing a sickly smoke.
“Hmph, poison.” I said, raising and eyebrow at him “Not very sporting of you.”
I did not give him a chance to speak further, binding and gagging him, dragging him into the forest.
Almost as soon as we had entered the treeline, the orc began to whimper and shake, and by the time we had reached a clearing he was begging for mercy. I stowed my new acquaintance on the opposite side of the clearing, and bound his legs so he oculd not run. I did not remove the gag until I had quite settled and built a fire.
“Oh please, please! I’ll talk, I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”
The orc man attempted to grovel, which was difficult in his current predicament. I sat down opposite him, so the embers from the fire would rise between us.
“So. You are far south. Or is it far north?” I asked. He opened his mouth but I cut him off. “You weren’t meant to answer that. I want to know how you came to be so close to the Edain.”

“Pah! You’re not Man! Why do you-“
“No. I’m an elf. A ‘tark’ as I believe you say? Which mean I am much, much worse than any Man. So I suggest you tell me how you came to be here, or my knife may actually find a use tonight.”
His eyes widened. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
I shrugged “Maybe I am.”
“They talked about your kind. They said-“
“They?” It was the only real lead I had.
“Them up North what sent us here!”
“Thank you.” I stood up and stepped across the fire. I drew my knife, and cut the orc-man free. “What is your name?”
He stood confused for a moment, and then blurted
“Garzbug.”
“Well then, ‘Garzbug’. Go back to your northern masters and tell them that Tarthalinor sends his regards. Say an Ellon has taken interest in them again, and the worst kind.”
I smile “Run along now.”
I shoved him into the woods and returned to my fire, twisting the ring on my hand in deep thought. The Tengwar letters that spelled my name caught the light and seemed to glow a dull green against the silver.
I drew forth the small leather satchel I had taken earlier and opened it. Inside was an iron ring carved in dark runes and a red wax seal. I threw the ring into the fire, and turned my attention to the seal. It bore several lines of Quenya runes, and a name. One I recognized.
I there my brother’s mark into the fire where it ran like blood over the glowing pool of iron.

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by Tarthalinor on Feb 18, 2016 at 07:48 PM
The following is a copy-paste of the first chapter of Tales of Middle-Earth, so everyone knows the general idea of what I'm looking for in this book
Chapter 1: Tarthalinor Elhromane, Elf of Lorien
Greetings. My name is Tarthalinor Elhromane, and I am an elf of Lothlorien, the Golden Wood. According to the words of my parents, I was born under the Mallorn trees in the year 509 First Age. It seemed to me that I was rather young still when I was sent to the Havens of Sirion, and not much older when those same Havens were sacked. It was in fleeing the Haven that I met my now good friend Elrond Half-Elven. After the sacking of Gondolin and the invasion by Maedhros and Maglor, I seemed to age rapidly alongside Elrond, so that by the end of the War of Wrath I was 61 years of age.
The War of Wrath; I remember it well. There was much dispute as to whether I should be allowed to fight Melkor, Morgoth as he is now called. But in the end, my family went with the rest of our Noldorin kin to the Ruin of Angband, and fought as best we could. My mother was wounded, but we all survived. We then barely escaped the drowning of Beleriand, and returned to Lothlorien for a time.
The nest 3,441 years were quiet, for the most part, though a few points of interest did emerge: The kingdom of Lindon was founded, and I fought in the battles to claim the land, while my parents, notably my mother, worked to obtain independence from the other elven kingdoms, and secure Lindon as its own land. We traded freely then with the dwarves, often visiting the Khazad stronghold of Moria in Eregion. We soon moved westward, and made our home in a place that came to be known as Celondim. The Edain of Westerness declared their kingdom in the 32nd years of the age, and Elros, brother of Elrond, was heard of again, having used his choice as half-elven to become mortal and lead the race of men as Tar-Minyatur. Rivalries and conflicts swept to and fro across Middle-Earth, and we were preoccupied, allowing the race of men from the island of Numenor to grow in influence and power until they held large swaths of coastland.
While all this transpired, Sauron, an old servant of Morgoth, and my traitorous mentor, had taken up his old master’s mantle, and built a tower in the region known as Ithilien, burning and cursing the land wherever he walked, declaring himself rightful ruler of all Arda. And thus, as powers grew, came the First War of Elves and Sauron. In this conflict, Sauron used his ruling Ring to wreak destruction and chaos throughout Middle-Earth. We fought as best we could, but would have fallen had not the Edain come to our aid when we least expected it. In this Alliance of Elves and Men, we rode under joint command of Gil-Galad the Bright Star for the Elves and Elendil for the Edain. After many long battles, betrayals, and stratagems, the war was won, and Sauron cast into the sea.

During the last battle I faced the Witch-King, Lord of the Nazgùl, bearer of the ring I myself had forged under the teachings of Celebrimbor and Sauron himself. I had this chance to right my wrongs, but I was unable, for as the creature swept down on the back of its fell steed, a great wave of terror washed over me, and I was struck dumb while my enemy escaped.
After the war was over, I departed to Edhellion in the north of Ered-Luin, to act as ambassador with my father to the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains. Then, in 2319 Third Age, the Haven of Edhellion was attacked by Skorgrim Dourhand, and the city was destroyed. I fought in defense of Edhellion, and my father and I fled to Rivendell. We dwelt there for a time, visiting my mother and two brothers in Lorien often. My father then left for Celondim, to act as diplomat from the elves of the east. While there he took passage on a vessel bound south for the kingdoms of man, intending to strengthen relations between the Edain and the Elledh. On this voyage the ship was lost and my father never seen again.
I returned to Rivendell, and stayed there until 2935 Third Age. While watching the stars one night, I noticed a Dunedain woman, who had come with the exodus from Angmar, speaking to a young boy who slept on her lap. I did not hear all that she said, but I did hear the last of it:
“And this, my son, is why you have been brought here, so that you might be hidden from our Enemy. For if they found you, your line would be at an end. It is for this reason that I call you now, for the last time in a long while, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Scion of Elendil, and Heir of Isildur.”
I was not able to long ponder these words, for I was sent once again to Thorin’s Gate, where I learned that a gaunt lord, Ivar the Bloodhand, has arisen and with him my old enemy Skorgrim. I assisted in driving them both out of Ered-Luin, and then heard in a dream from Lady Galadriel that the time had once again come to take up arms against the dark powers rising in the South. For Sauron has arisen again, and the Witch-King built an army in Angmar. With this knowledge, I rode to Celondim, where I solidified an alliance between Elves and Dwarves, and then rode east to the land of Bree. There I met the very same Aragorn, called here Strider, and the rangers of the north. I went with them eastwards still, riding at long last for Rivendell, to aid in the fight against the rising darkness.
What follows is a collection of accounts of my adventures and those of my friends, detailing our stories in this tumultuous time.



Hopefully you guys like it, and it shows you a bit of what I was imagining for this book. More to come!